Julie Lyles Carr: This Little Puppy

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

This Little Puppy

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This little puppy gave us a run for our money in the wee hours.


Wowza.  What a crazy time.


We arrived home late last evening after a busy, busy day, me having had a class to teach in the morning and a speaking engagement last night, with various kid activities and schoolwork sprinkled in between.  We had been back and forth to the house and had played with our two doggies, Katie and George, and when we left for last night's event, they were fed, pottied and crated in the house.


But when we arrived home a few hours later, it was clear something was up with Katie.


She had gotten sick in her crate and we got her cleaned up and tried to figure out if she was okay. She didn't get sick anymore, but she definitely wasn't herself.  She was willing to drink some water and we got her warmed up.  Katie and George are tiny little dogs and don't keep their body heat all that well.  A while after midnight, we felt that she was doing alright and headed to bed.


But a couple of hours later, I woke up.  She hadn't barked.  She hadn't made any noise.  But I was just compelled to check on her.


And now I had one very sick little puppy on my hands.  She still hadn't vomited anymore but was incredibly weak and disoriented.  As I sat in my bathroom floor with her, trying to assess the situation, 3 of 8 came in, he himself feeling that same need to check on her.


Calls were made to the 24 vet clinic, the Weather Channel was consulted as we tried to figure out the conditions of the roads as ice was in the forecast.  Katie just seemed to look worse, but was willing to take a few drops of water with a little sugar in it.


Mike happened to be out of town and I was trying to figure out how to best head out in the middle of the night with a sick puppy and sleeping kids at home.  3 of 8 was helping me get it all planned out and I had the vet clinic on the phone with me, keeping up with her behavior and symptoms.


And then, mid-drama, Katie gave herself a good shake.  And squirmed to be put down.  And slowly walked to her food bowl.  And ate some food.  And drank some water.  And ambled over to 3 of 8.  And seemed to say, "Thanks for hitting the drama button for me.  I think I'm feeling better now."


Okay.


It's now several hours later, lunchtime.  And she's a tiny bit slower than usual but is already tearing through the house, keeping George away from her food bowl, yapping like the little yapper she is.  And I'm running on a couple hours of broken sleep and a whole lot of coffee.  And 3 of 8 is moving in a fog.


But in that weird way, it was bonding.  Bonding to try to comfort this little dog, who, honestly, is generally a yippy, yappy, bossy little lovable pest.   Bonding to sit with my oldest son, the man of the house for the night with his dad away on business, helping me think through what we needed to do, determined to help me and to be by my side.  Bonding.


And we're thankful.  Thankful our prayers for our little puppy to feel better were answered.


Bonding.  Gratitude.


And hopefully, tonight, with Mike home and Katie all healed up, there will be sleep.


Ah, sleep.

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